


Dusty Dreams and Disconsolate Memories

by o0JayWolf0o



Category: Undertale, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Heavy crap, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, absoloutley no fluff, frisk dun messed up, lotta angst, not a happy ending??, oops maybe i shouldn't be writing this, sangst, this is sad stuff, we loaf you papy, whoops death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1950-01-01
Updated: 1950-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-02 12:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8666620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0JayWolf0o/pseuds/o0JayWolf0o
Summary: The piercing light had been locked away for lifetimes on end, yet a special someone is able to release it from the makeshift cage.A certain skeleton had opened his mind to a vulnerable point.And now he regretted it.The sinking, calling void had swallowed him whole one more, and he had welcomed it in all its beauty.Maybe not all stories have happy endings...and maybe, just maybe, this is one of those dark, dead stories.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys  
> i decided we dont have enough angst so  
> have this!!  
> also, there's **_four easter eggs_** in here! find them all and you shall be rewarded with something..  
> ..im not sure what. maybe art, maybe a story about you and your crush idk.  
>  so there  
> yeet

And he was happy.

Toriel was tall, sweet and loving, but could get a message across. She was a pun-lover alike, and would never hesitate to help. She was delicate, yet refused to show how hurt she was in public. Strangers would hurt her, but close ones would break the fragile sentiment she had.

Sans was short, funny and gentle. He avoided his problems by shedding light on other things. He was a pun lover as well and never thought twice to protect the ones he loved if he could. He held a certain tenderness in his weary culmination that could only be broken by those who cared. Strangers were deflected as if they were nothing, but if he truly loved someone they would not break him, but kill him.

His life had always been in the prospect of hope before him, yet to be dragged painstakingly away the moment his touch was near. Yet, now, he was happy. He had caught hope and held it close. For once, he felt his worry and misery melt away like butter against a hot knife.

The way she smiled. The way her face would light up in glee the moment she had thought of something she believed was witty and clever. The way she would be clement about something that could be dangerous, and how she could change one's mind but being sickly sweet to them. It had opened his heart.

She had been the one to make him feel whole again, not once, but many times, until it got tiring. Yet, now, thinking about the prospect of presets were gone. Her child, gifted with a deadly weapon that could make someone so optimized feel misery in seconds, had promised not to use the power as their own. He had taken their word. And they kept their word. For years, he had felt an intricate bliss in his SOUL because he  _lived,_ and he was  _happy._  

And he had been foolish.

He had trusted them.

 

October 11, 2025.

A wave of nausea passed over the skeleton.

He was unsure as to what it was, now being unfamiliar with the sensation.

He passed out, the void swallowing him with a resemblance of his father.

 

September 15, 2015

He blinked his eyes open.

A canny roof met his eyes. He was unsure as to whose it was, but then it registered in the so-called mind he had carried.

He had let one make him soft. He'd broken his own word, and let himself be open to the idea of hope and happiness.

Hah. What a joke.

He didn't scream. Just smiled. It was genuine. Why? Why was it genuine?

Ah. He was smiling at oneself. He had been an idiot. Why was he to think things would be golden? Why had he been open to the idea of frolicking in the fields of optimism and ecstasy? 

"SANS, WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE!" A familiar voice shouted. The words didn't comprehend to his intellect. Something awfully wet and salty, yet a soft and delicate blue rolled down his cheeks. What was rolling down his cheeks? Was someone crying?

Oh. _He_ was crying. He was shedding tears, letting them roll freely from his now baggy eyelids. Some time later, a door opened. When had a door opened? A skeleton, much younger than he remembered, loomed over him, looking distraught. His mouth moved, but nothing came out. The only thing reaching the senses that he had claimed were perfect was a deafening static and taunt.

The skeleton in orange repeated something over and over, but Sans wasn't sure what is was. The roar of child-like laughter ringed through his mind.

At some point, the skeleton had left and managed to get Sans ready for the day. He'd put a fake smile on like always- when had the past become always?- and wandered to his sentry post. Footprints already litter the soft, shining snow, disturbing the delicate demeanor it once held. Dust loitered in the wind. The purple doors had been forced off their hinges by a great rage, showcasing its prized possession- a pile of dust.

He did not fall to his knees. He let hardness encase his essence and simply walked away, somber mood falling upon him once more. She had always told him if she died, she wanted her dust to be spread on him, however, she had not met him here. Her favorite item as not him, so he betrayed the word of the one he loved most.

As the being he had once claimed he was walked through the path set by said murderous child, the howling wind echoed throughout the static-induced mind. He felt the happiness and hope melt away as if it were a warm slush from his now cold, and, dare he say, dead SOUL he carried. It was truly a burden.

Piles of dust were blown as if they were ragdolls, encasing the air with the scent of forgotten remorse. He did not cry. The tears he had once wept were now forbidden, the strained smile he conveyed dark. He watched from dead trees that shielded a lesser amount of snow than can hold as they slashed and stabbed monsters with ease. Pure, unbridled hate pulsed from the young child as they rushed through the blizzard, eager to eliminate his kind.

Misery clouded his very existence, spiraling away into the despair that had been locked away for too long. He welcomed the piercing cold that withered around him, the rage he'd hidden away flaring in all its newfound glory.

Moments later, he found himself freeing the tears he'd once held bail, wailing in despair. In front of him lay a pile of dust, yet a stylish accessory that succumbed to its owner had been stolen.

His scarf.

 

September 16, 2015

Golden light shed through open windows, the chatter and clicking of birds humming in the distance. A breeze wafted through, adding to the cozy atmosphere. The patter of furry shoes disturbed the peaceful scene as well as the quiet drip of liquid splashing on the floor.

Before him stood a small child dressed in a ~~green and yellow~~  purple and blue sweater as well as a pair of  ~~brown~~ blue leggings. An  ~~pink blush~~ expressionless face loitered on the child's deathly demeanor, their brown hair swished at they skipped down the hall. A supplement that belonged to another was worn around their neck, resembling bravery. An orange, torn scarf. They stopped, and the skeleton they knew too well appeared. 

She listened to his spiel with deep interest but stopped him as he attempted to tug the child's SOUL free.

"Sans, oh Sans we've come a long way, haven't we?" The child's voice rung around the hallway. The skeleton tensed at the calmness of their tone, broadness clearly radiating from them. Confidence pulsed from them, drowning every sense of doubt they may carry. "I'm sorry it's come to this, but little old me just loves it when you trust me!" It had been a set up all along. The child had done acts of trust for the skeleton in their hopes to get a kick out of his reaction, did they not? "It's funny, seeing you so happy all the time. It really made my stomach twist, seeing you kiss that ugly goat." Hatred crawled through the skeleton. He pulled the rotten thing they called a SOUL out from their stolen body.

He did not speak. He refused to reclaim himself to the  _thing_ that stood proudly in from of him. The urge to kill it slowly crawled throughout his bones, through his marrow. He let the emotion control him.

Load after load after load occurred and after 727 of those deadly, passionless loads...

..he fell.

He crawled away from the child, silent, leaving a trail of mixed DT and dust behind him. A chilling numbness quivered throughout him as he fell still once more.

 

April 24, 2016

He wrote down the amount of loads and resets that had ever occurred in his lab.

78336,867435

He stalked towards Hotland, his self-esteem dropping to empty. The empathy he felt vanished as he stared out to the CORE.

This was it. His pain would be gone.

He smiled. A genuine, real smile. 

He turned around and opened his arms. 

"goodbye, papyrus," He leaned backward the moment after Alphys stepped into the scene.

"Sans!" She called, terror in her voice. The numbness he'd carried overwhelmed him as the lava burned his being.

Pain shot through him, then dissipated as quickly as it had come.

A familiar, static induced voice greeted him.

"Şo̴ yo̴u ҉de̛cided t҉o ̢j̕oin͡ m̧e͡.." It called, rough voice jumping octaves.

"I h͞ąv̵e ͏mis͜sed ̶y̵ou̶ ̴dȩa̛rly͝, ͡my̧ ͘eldest ́s̢on."

 

**Author's Note:**

> oops cliffhanger guess we'll never know who le voice be  
> anyways  
> comment! please. and maybe share. i spent like 5 hours on this crap  
> actually around 4 hours but  
> !!!  
> also, remember the easter eggs. there's four. k.


End file.
